Beloved Dust
by MaverickPaxAPunch
Summary: Post Season 7. Medical historian Birdie Blaire, looking to move on from her troubled past, moves to Bon Temps to document Hep-V in the Shreveport area. As she finds herself in the midst of strange, ghostly attacks, she meets Willa, who begins to realize that Birdie is something drastically different than human - and she has some unfinished business. May be rated M in the future.
1. Awake O Sleeper

**Hello people, and welcome to my world! Just a few thing to begin.**

 **-I don't own True Blood or any of the characters (unless they are my own)**

 **-This story is set in a timeline similar to the finale of the show, although I've altered a few things: Eric did not release Willa, that is all :)**

 **-I know I haven't updated Walk the World in quite a while, but no need to fear, it's coming soon! I've been working on this fella for a while.**

 **I don't think I've forgotten anything, but if I have, I will clarify that at the end! The "Pilot", so to say, got a little lengthy, so I apologize. They won't all be mother long... Also, each chapter is based off a song, and this one is based off of "Awake O Sleeper" by The Brothers Bright.**

 **Happy Reading!**

Chapter One

Awake O Sleeper

 _And You as Well Must Die, Beloved Dust_

 _And you as well must die, beloved dust,_

 _And all your beauty stand you in no stead;_

 _This flawless, vital hand, this perfect head,_

 _This body of flame and steel, before the gust_

 _Of Death, or under his autumnal frost,_

 _Shall be as any leaf, be no less dead_

 _Than the first leaf that fell,—this wonder fled._

 _Altered, estranged, disintegrated, lost._

 _Nor shall my love avail you in your hour._

 _In spite of all my love, you will arise_

 _Upon that day and wander down the air_

 _Obscurely as the unattended flower,_

 _It mattering not how beautiful you were,_

 _Or how beloved above all else that dies._

-Edna St. Vincent Millay

XXX

Birdie's fingers shook as she grasped the paper cup, holding it under the steady stream of lemonade from the faded orange Gatorade cooler. It was printed in stars and stripes, a tribute to the American flag - probably left over from Independance Day, if she had to guess. Guiding the cup to her lips carefully, she took a sip of the sloshing substance, listening to the party around her. Hmm, it was watered down a bit, probably from excessive ice. Sugar might do it good.

Studying the crowd of locals that had gathered, Birdie gripped her cup, slick with condensation, while perusing the folding tables set up full of desserts, hamburgers and their fixings, other caterings. There were coffee pots set up at the end of the buffet where she found small pink packets of sugar intermingling with coffee creamers.

"Birdie!" she jumped at her name, immediately spilling the tiny grains all over the weathered wooden table she had set her cup of lemonade on. Smiling awkwardly, she turned around and greeted the cheery redhead who had snuck up behind her. "I'm glad you made it - I didn't see your face, and I thought -"

"I'm sorry, Arlene. My car - it can be pretty temperamental, and just as I was leaving, it decided to take a shit. Excuse my French."

"Oh honey, excused." The woman winked, leaning against the table to support her weight. "I sure hope you didn't walk here, then. I know your house ain't far, but," she leaned in closer. Birdie could smell her perfume, undoubtedly Liz Claiborne, and the unmistaken scent of baby powder. Her son was about three now, throwing things around and toddling into coffee tables - Birdie had met him a few times. "In heels like those, you're liable to twist an ankle or somethin'." Arlene winked.

Birdie shifted in her heels. They were uncomfortable wedges that bumped her up at least three inches, but they had little arch support. Struggling through the night in them hadn't seemed like such a feat when she strapped them on in the comfort of her home, but now, teetering around in the grass, she felt like the century's fool.

"They seemed like a good idea at the time. I was going to hitch a ride with Reverend Daniels and his wife - they don't live but a block away from me. Gave my junker one last try and it decided to get up and go." without swiveling around, Birdie reached back for her now sufficiently-sugared cup of lemonade. The paper had gone soggy, making the foundation of the cup questionable, but she took a sip and it seemed sturdy enough for its purpose.

"Well, good for you. I would hate to see you hurting yourself for a pair of heels, no matter how stylish. You know, I thought of you the other day when I saw this story on the news - something about scientists tracing back malaria or something, doin' experiments on mosquitos and what not, did you see?"

Birdie listened to Arlene's banter as she studied the strung summer lights, swaying in the amiable breeze, tuning out the woman's magpie chatter as she scanned the crowd around her. The lanterns laced amongst the sky, hung as if affable stars aligned them, gave the illusion of bringing the sky to earth instead of bringing the earth to the sky, twinkling orbs of light.

The sun had long since completed its tour for the day and had now been replaced by myriad stars, dotting the vast ever-changing expanse of pin prick lights in the inky canvas. The backyard church grove was lit up with all kinds of celebratory lights to symbolize the summer, ironic in comparison to the gibbous moon that hovered tenuously in the sky, protecting Bon Temps as a stoic guardian.

After she was finally able to unwind herself from Arlene's tenuous yet friendly grasp, Birdie wandered amongst the tents of patrons, citizens of this little quiet town. She'd met most of them, some for the first time tonight, but Bon Temps had become familiar to her over the past few months, what with its welcoming demeanor. Spinning around the church's back courtyard, foolish dancers nearly oblivious to the impending peril inevitable to the world of harmony. Birdie sighed. She didn't love this town. It was nice, it was safe, but she hadn't come to love it. Not yet, at least.

Mostly, she showed up to these events when it was appropriate; this town was so accepting of vampires, the reverend had moved the annual summer church picnic to accommodate them. Instead of starting in the afternoon, it started at dawn just as the creatures of the night were rising. It seemed foolish to think that they would even attend - didn't they have better things to do with their nights than to attend some podunk church picnic? Apparently not, because plenty of Bon Temps's vampires were here, maintaining their titles as part of the community.

Birdie had met many vampires in her day. They didn't make her uncomfortable - in fact, nothing really did other than awkward social interaction.

"Hey? Hey, are you okay?"

Birdie snapped out of her stupor, shaking her head. The loose curls she'd put in her flaxen hair before sunset were beginning to fall out, and it didn't help when she combed her long, slender fingers through them.

"Yeah, I'm - fine. Who are you?" she still felt dazed, staring off at some far-off time, some lost world of stitching in the stars.

"Oh, shoot - I'm sorry. Jessica. I'm Jessica, I think I've seen you around." The girl smiled, ultramarine buoyancy of her eyes floating in waves of night, bobbing amongst the lanterns. She extended her hand, light eyebrows raising towards the paleness of her forehead.

"Birdie Blaire." She smiled, reaching forward to receive the woman's offer - or girl, she couldn't be much more than twenty. She grasped her hand and let the cold seep in, allowing it to emanate into her skin. It seared for a moment and then fizzled out, but the redhead's smile didn't as she bounced excitedly, pulling Birdie to her feet. Even in her wedge heels, the vampire was still taller than her by a few inches.

"You're that girl from the paper, right? Uh, the - medical something. Medical..."

"Historian." Birdie stated proudly, taking another sip of her lemonade. It was bland, she much preferred Arnold Palmer.

"Right! You're the medical historian. That's so interesting - you must've seen a lot in your day, right? I've never actually looked at the study of diseases. I mean, in school we grew E. Coli, but that's about it. I think what ya'll do is so fascinating, just so - cool!"

"Thanks." Birdie smiled, raising her glass up slightly. "So, you live around here?" Familiarizing herself with the small town had been easy, but the people in it, not so much. There were so many outlying parts, so many historical buildings.

"Yeah, me and my husband live out at the old Compton place. Sheriff Bellefleur rents it to us, and - oh, hold on. Hoyt! Hoyt, come over here and meet Birdie!" Jessica was so outgoing, so - happy, just to be here, to be included. Birdie was starting to understand this town's relationship with vampires.

A man lumbered across the lawn, taking a swig of his Coca-Cola as he approached, seeming only to get taller as he got closer. He was rugged-looking with stubbly cheeks, hair askew, and tree-like frame, but there was a softness to him. He put one arm around Jessica's waist, extending the other.

"Hoyt Fortenbury, nice to meet you." he smiled, and Birdie smiled, shaking his hand. Hoyt's grip was firm, purposeful. "You're Birdie?"

"Yes. Yes, I am. It's nice to meet more people in Bon Temps - I've sort of been held up a lot the past couple months, researching, typing - you know, the whole lap-top-illumination party at three in the morning." She babbled, though the couple smiled at her genuinely.

They continued to talk for quite a while, enjoying the nightly breeze, but over their shoulders, Birdie was watching other people arrive. A few more people came late, and Reverend Daniels greeted them with open arms, a family and their little girl, a teenage boy and who appeared to be his girlfriend.

Listening to Hoyt speaking about his construction job and its shit pay, yet good hours, was surprisingly - homey. Birdie couldn't recall seeing a vampire-human relationship where the human wasn't just a blood bag and a sex toy, but they were married. And obviously in love.

"So, where do you shack up?" Hoyt took another swig from his can. From the sounds of the sloshing, the Coke was nearly finished. "I mean - I work on the roads, there's always some fallen tree, so I know who lives where." his arm around vampire Jessica's waist tightened as he went red in the face. Hoyt was small town charming, certainly. There was a gentle chivalry about him.

"I live up to the old old Bellefleur place. Surprisingly cheap rent. A foreclosure, I think, but it's a nice place. A little too big for me, but when I was looking for places to buckle down and get to work, my employance agency just plopped me down here in Bon Temps. Not that I mind, it's a great place - I just haven't had time to explore, you know?" There she went, babbling again.

"Birdie's a medical historian." Jessica piped in, intelligent light eyes darting between the two of them.

"Oh, really? What do you do?" Hoyt shook the can of Coke, clarifying its emptiness.

"Well - medical historians study diseases, document them, classify. Some people could tell you who won every Super Bowl, I could tell you how many people died of cholera in 1831."

"Is that why you're here?" Jessica asked in interest, combing through her auburn curls. "To study Hep-V cases?"

"Yes - to study Hep-V. It's only been about a year since New Blood, so documentation is just beginning. Not only do I study and document the history of it, I study the underlying causes. What it does to the body, how it dominates."

"That's amazin'." Jessica grinned, tilting her head to the side. She looked almost sunkissed in a way, a certainty that a vampire couldn't possibly have, but she did. There was that immortal deepness to her eyes, though - a glimmering hunter deep down, beneath the gentle church-goer look. "I'd love to hear more about it. Why don't you come sit with us?"

"Glady." Birdie obliged, following Jessica and Hoyt to the table clothed in a checkered red and white table cloth, surrounded by a group of semi-familiar faces.

Officer Stackhouse - she'd met him once or twice, she remembered he'd swung by her house as she was moving in. In the middle of the night, no less, and some dipship had called the police to tattle on her for making a racket. Instead of taking her in, he'd helped her carry in her messy cluttered boxes until dawn. He had a half-eaten hot dog in hand and was chewing, his arm around a blonde who was evidently his wife, because she held a tiny infant close to her chest, talking to Lafayette, the short order cook from Arlene's restaurant, who sat fiddling with his feather earring.

"Well, hey Birdie!" Officer Stackhouse sprung from his seat, knocking his folding chair backwards as he thrust out his hand. She took it, shaking the firmness of it as an unmistakably necessary grin spread across her face. He was just so - friendly. Incredibly so. "I didn't know if you'd be comin' tonight - you all moved in yet?"

"Still working on it, Officer Stackhouse. Everything's in the house now, thanks to you. It's up to me to unpack it, when I get around to it. I've been spending a lot of time working."

"Just give the office a call if you need a hand. And it's Jason. Least when I'm not wearin' the uniform." He smiled charismatically, leading her to a spare seat at the table. "Brigette, this here's Birdie Blaire, the new historian." Jason introduced her to his wife, who was a classically beautiful blonde woman.

"Birdie! It's nice to finally meet the infamous basket case who moved into the haunted house in the middle of the night." Brigette grinned, extending her hand. Birdie shook it, reveling in its warm softness.

"Haunted? I didn't hear about this." she mused dramatically, sitting down in the seat Jason had pulled out for her. The only way to act normal about this was to be into the humanity of "hauntings", or whatever the hell they called it.

"Ah, it's just an old kid's tale. I'm surprised you didn't hear about it before you moved in." Another woman who Birdie had yet to meet smiled, extending her hand. "I'm sorry, we haven't met. I'm Jason's sister, Sookie."

"Sookie. That's a different name. Different in a good way." Birdie matched Sookie's smile, taking a sip of her watery lemonade.

"So, you's the mad mofo who moved up in the haunted house?" Lafayette cat called across the table, interrupting. "I thought you was stupid for comin' in Bellefleur's every morning and ordering a heart attack on a stick, but you the real deal Miss Blaire." he lilted, stretching his arm around the back of another man with shaggy brown hair, a scruffy face.

"La's just trying to scare you." he stated, taking a swig from his can of New Blood, plastered with a pin up of Sarah Newlin's playboy face.

"I'm not afraid of ghosts." Birdie set her empty cup on the checkered table cloth, uncurling the soggy paper at the rim, studying the group that had gathered at the table. There was Jason and his wife, of course, and their baby swaddled in a pink receiving blankie. Lafayette, the cook whom she bantered with when she went to Bellefleur's to breakfast because she hadn't unpacked her dishes or gone shopping yet. The vampire who was obviously his boyfriend. She caught his name - James. There were Jessica and Hoyt, of course, and Jason's sister Sookie.

As usual, Birdie kept the banter of a conversation with the people who were becoming less than strangers while she kept account on who was arriving. More and more seemed to be showing up as the picnic continued - a bearded man with his son perched on his shoulders, sucking a juice box down, an old man who ushered a gussied up elderly woman with a plastic pearl necklace beaded around her neck. And a girl who arrived by herself, clothed in a floral dress that glowed underneath the bobbing lanterns.

Birdie noticed her immediately, just as she had been noticing vampires for the past - however long. Jessica had nearly slipped her radar, being so frilly and excited. She was as close to human as one of them could possibly get, but this girl screamed vampire, and yet the opposite.

Watching from afar as she greeted the reverend and Lettie Mae Daniels, Birdie continued to nod and listen to the conversation Sookie and Lafayette had struck up, not truly listening. She hadn't seen the vampire around, not in Bon Temps, at least.

"Did I miss much?" the girl leaned down and hugged her arm around Jessica's shoulders. Jessica was more than eager for a hug from her evident friend, who held a half-ripped plastic shopping bag and a case of Bud Lite in the other hand. "I brought refreshments - I didn't wanna seem rude."

"I'll take those." Hoyt smirked, taking the packages from her, heading back towards the refreshment booth.

"You didn't miss much, not at all - we still have time to dominate at the sack race." Jessica winked, and Birdie smiled at the brunette vampire, offering her hand.

"I'm Birdie." Suddenly shy, she hoped she didn't seem strange offering the vampire to shake hands, but - oh well. "Birdie Blaire."

"Willa Burrell." The vampire smiled, shaking her hand. She was cold too - perhaps, colder than Jessica, but that might have been a coincidence. Her dark hair was swept up into an uppercase ponytail, flyaways pinned, and she looked so painstakingly like a Southern sweetheart, it was nearly a joke. Although she didn't seem naive. Anything but.

"Here, have my seat." Immediately, she stood up, brandishing her soggy empty cup, pulling out the seat beside Sookie. "I'm up for another drink."

"It's fine, I -" Willa Burrell began, but Birdie held her hands up in surrender, backing away in mock defeat.

"No, really, I insist. I'll be right back." Damn, if her hospitality could wear off, that sure could kick in now. It was - old fashioned, at best, but what else had she expected from herself? Shaking her golden hair out of her face as she perused the dessert table, regretting her fluid yet awkward exit, she met Sookie's eyes over the cream puffs.

"It's not real hard to tell when people aren't from around here." She smiled, bow lips turning upwards attractively as she used the baby tongs to retrieve a slice of carrot cake from a platter opposite a batch of iced brownies. "Ya'll get a little antsy when Bon Temps residents poke you a little. Don't mind it - it's somethin' you get used to, livin' here like you will."

"I'll keep that in mind. I really don't - care all that much." Birdie reached for a slice of cheesecake, deciding against it and retracting her hand. "Small towns are my forte."

"Do the vampires make you nervous?" Sookie wondered, and Birdie watched her sage eyes alight. "You'll get used to them, too. Most of 'em are residents."

"Oh, no, I - I've been around lots of vampires, they don't bother me. Equality!" Birdie pumped one fist in the air awkwardly, resolving into a nervous snort. "I'm just really not the - uh, banner-holder-in-a-parade type."

Sookie nodded, filling a fresh cup of iced tea from a red cooler, suddenly meeting Birdie's eyes again. This time, she held them - gazed into them with curiosity, with vigor as her filmy brows raised in wonder.

"What are you?" Voice laced with eager interest, Sookie reached to touch her face but Birdie squirmed away in confusion, feeling her stomach drop into her hypothetical pants.

"Excuse me?"

"I can't hear you, not like normal - your thoughts echo around in your head like the Grand Canyon, and even then they're just - blurry pictures. I've never met someone who thinks like that." She shook her head, and Birdie backed away a few steps, feeling her wedges beginning to sink into the muddy turf left over from afternoon rain. "I'm real sorry to be intrusive, but you're not -"

"I don't know who you - or what you think I am, but I - I have to go." Birdie could feel redness seeping into her face, an intense heat, although per usual she felt the coals but remained cold. Wheeling away from the wavering blonde, she rushed back to the table and snatched her purse off the back of the chair where the vampire she'd given her seat towas laughing with Brigette.

"Hey, Birdie, where are you goin'?" Jessica called, vamping from her seat, but Sookie caught her hand.

Don't dare look back.

Don't dare turn around.

Don't dare say anything.

The world around her echoed in her ears as she searched for her car, the green Beatle parked amongst pick-ups and equally old sedans, fumbling for the keys in her purse as she pushed onward, blocking all of her sense aside from sight and the drive to get the hell away from this church picnic.

This was a mistake.

Becoming aware of a sudden overpowering darkness, Birdie blinked a few times, eyeing the rows of messily parked cars, eyes frantically flitting for her own. God, why had she parked so far away? Mind moving in undulated waves, she took a deep breath and gripped the keys in her hands, scanning for her Beatle once again. Something wasn't right. It was off. Perhaps it was only the feeling of dread she'd felt in her stomach moments ago, but - no, this was different.

"Hello?" Birdie called ridiculously into the night, scuffing her heel against the gravel. The cars had been parked on what appeared to be an old baseball diamond - through the tenebrosity, she could make out the bases and overgrown field, blanketed in vehicles. "Who's out there?" In stride, she began trudging through the weeds towards her car, parked amongst a rusty pickup and old Toyota.

Shoving the keys in the ignition, breathing hard, Birdie willed the car to spring to life, to somehow fly the hell out of this place. Cursing, she turned the damn thing again, hearing only backlash and static from the engine. Shit, she should have known better than to take the damn thing when it had barely rumbled to life in the first place.

"Damn it!" she slammed her hands against the dash, pressing her forehead against the steering wheel. Huffing loudly, she became aware of a prickling feeling on the back of her neck. Something - something was not right.

"Birdie." The voice beside her spoke, and she turned to view the gathering black mist circling - something empty, something so void that it created an intense feeling of dread inside of her. An immense need to get away, to leave this place forever. The blackness continued to grow, to growl, and she screamed, frantically trying to unlock the door with fumbling fingers.

A deep, guttural, inhuman snarl exhumed from the blackening mist, and as Birdie numbly gripped the lock, she tumbled backwards out of the front seat, straight into the wet grass. Oofing at the impact, she scrambled to her feet and looked behind her, the void mist gathering around her in a mockery as she let another unintentional scream rip from her lips, running back towards the church picnic.

Starving howling emitted from the picnic grounds, immortal, inhuman, and the bobbin lantern lights began to flicker. Frantic Bon Temps residents wove in and out of picnic tables, trampled scattered potato salad and hot dog buns, huddled in the mock safety of the gazebo as Birdie tried to figure out what the exact hell was going on.

The black fog streaked through the air, materializing before Arlene Bellefleur and a girl with matching red hair, her daughter, into the shadow of a man, mouth agape in an impossible proportion as it laughed, leech-like face yawning as it grabbed for mother and daughter.

The creature let out an insistent hiss as it inhaled, features becoming more and more human as it snickered at the cowering humans.

"Mommy!" Arlene's daughter, gripping her mother's waist, sobbed, and the man turned his attention towards Birdie, who stood dumb with her keys in hand. The man wore a tattered pair of dusty jeans and a green t shirt with the sleeves ripped off, his curly mop of hair shrouded in twigs. Completely black eyes narrowed as he viewed her, the small woman standing between her friend in this town and whatever monster of the mist had emerged.

With one last look at her, the man materialized with a roar, becoming the black mist once again as a blood-curdling shriek filled the air, piercing all of the terrified towns peoples' humanesque terrorized screaming. Birdie immediately could feel the anger bubbling in her stomach, the darkness taking over as her stony glare tarred into the empty black it would become.

Her skin was entirely numb now as the mist infiltrated the town's church picnic like bombs, surfacing again and again, terrorizing its innocent victims. The blackness materialized into figures, knocking over tables, pouncing on people, and then ye-hawing back into the sky where they collectively swirled.

"Shit." Her voice was becoming nothing but a whisper as she became nothingness, whatever lay in her wake beginning to hover and spiral as she searched for the owner of the scream. Birdie let out a whispy cry as she tripped over a body lying face down on the ground, immediately turning it over to Jessica's terrified and petrified face. A droplet of black sludge dripped from her mouth, like a drool of blood.

"No, no, no." she cried, scrambling to her feet. Another shriek filled the haunted air, and she turned to her left, seeing through the black of her vision, Jason Stackhouse ushering people into a shed, his own eyes filled with fear as he protected as many as he could.

Something grabbed her leg and pulled her back down to the ground beside the utility building, face to face with Jessica's beady glistening eyes as the creature pounced on her, speaking in tongues as her brunette hair hung in her face that came into full view as the black mist cleared.

 _"Parare rursus moriturae. Proditor."_ The woman cackled, face contorting into the same flesh-tearing appearance of the thing that had threatened Arlene, attacking her prey as she lowered her sharp-toothed void to her collarbone and pinned her wrists to the earth. Birdie could barely scream as she began to feel the life being drained from her, kicking her legs against Jessica's stone cold body as she began to feel her struggle weakening.

The woman, or creature, let out a low snarl as she was knocked from Birdie's chest, tumbling into a hovering cloud of blackness and regaining her strength into the human-like form. Vampire Willa hissed, fangs clicking from her gums as she stanced herself, floral dress fluttering at her knees. "Get the _hell_ out of here!" She growled in her much-too-gentle Southern drawl, narrowing her dark eyes. The woman pounced on the vampire, and Willa screamed as Birdie regained the strength she had never once lost, crawling against Jessica's ironically lifeless body.

"No!" Birdie cried, extending her hand. The blackness pooling in her eyes darkened as she got back to her feet, prepared to kill whatever thing had a hold on the stranger who struggled against her.

As soon as it had come, the black void mist receded, figures melting back into the fog and fading away, or disappearing so quickly that not a soul could see it. Willa's body slumped against the brick of the utility building, as lifeless as Jessica's, and the same trickle of black melted from her gaping mouth.

The screaming subsided, Birdie immediately fumbling in the grass for her misplaced keys, grasping them with shaking hands as she scrambled to Willa's side, slapping her frozen face side to side. "Willa Burrell? Shit." grasping her keys, she sliced her wrist with the new house key, feeling no pain whatsoever as the gray scant of the wound began to seep the way blood never could. Taking a deep breath, she pressed her wrist to the vampire's mouth and exhaled sharply, feeling the memories seep into her. Sustenance.

 **A review would be very nice thank you - tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, and if I should continue! Thank you!**


	2. Children Of Darkness

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the True Blood characters aside from the ones who play around in my imagination :)**

 **This chapter is named for the song "Children Of Darkness" by Joan Baez.**

 **Happy reading! And welcome back!**

Chapter Two

Children Of Darkness

The sound of someone's hideous sobbing was obvious through the psychological barrier Birdie shrouded herself in, blocking out the tiny town of Bon Temps and the innocent little church picnic possibly turned massacre. Vampire Willa's cold, motionless lips did not wrap around the self inflicted wound as they should, rather remained slack around the jagged line caused by Birdie's house key.

"Please, please, please." murmured the woman in a mantra, begging the motionless vampire to take to the garish laceration traced across Birdie's pallid flesh, or whatever could be considered her flesh. Her eyes began to cloud in blackness as she forced her forearm against the vampire's country mouth, cradling her head with the other hand. Her fingers tangled into the messy pony tail as she bit her lower lip, shaking her own head as a string of curse words danced their distraught way through her head.

Footsteps were growing nearer, and she could hear a familiar yet distant call that seemed to be coming from the left, but her eyes remained on Willa's inert features. With the tell-tale signature chink, Willa's fangs dropped in her stupor and Birdie hitched her arm underneath the incisors, letting the blackness extending from her clouded eyes seep into the landscape of Willa's recent memory.

XXX

 _Willa sighed heavily under her breath, studying the floral pattern on the blouse of the venerable woman in front of her. The cotton was printed in yellow-green orchids and tappered at the flabby elbows, mismatched with pants of emerald covered in reddish poppies that probably wouldn't match anything, even if the lady had tried creating an acceptable outfit. Her husband, or who Willa assumed to be her husband, cradled a bottle of A &W against his scratchy bare arm, adjusting his horn-rimmed glasses while simultaneously scratching his salt and pepper moustache._

 _Both of them smelled of boiled hot dogs and value barbeque sauce, although the woman's breath, even from a few feet away, smelled of undigested medication and her unnecessary spritzes of Chanel No. 5 would have wafted from the revolving doors. The man, on the other hand, smelled of chlorine and dandruff, an almost unbearable scent against her sensitive nose._

 _"Oh, no young man - I'd like these packaged in paper." The woman spoke in an old southern drawl, the kind that suggested she ate a lot of butterscotch hard candies and tore out recipes from the Family Fun magazines while she waited to get her diabetes checked. Willa sighed again, this time a little louder as she shifted from one foot to the other. She never was an impatient girl, but she had little tolerance tonight. She was thirsty and hadn't fed since a few days ago, and even then, it was nothing special._

 _"Sign here on the pin pad, ma'am." The cashier sighed, raking his cracked nails against his poorly shaven face. He looked about two IQ points away from being considered a productive member of society, considering the way he did everything with little purpose, droopy brown eyes following the woman's hands as she struggled to understand the simple grocery store technology. "Ma'am, you gotta swipe the card and then do your signature."_

 _"Oh, for Lord's sake - Howie!" Yelling just over the appropriate decibel for a local Meijer, the harpy called for her husband who shuffled loosely back from the display of restaurant gift cards he'd been perusing while his wife struggled with the pin pad. Glaring at him, she shoved the card into his hand and ordered him to complete the transaction._

 _"Have a nice night, ya'll." the bored cashier muttered while the couple shuffled away with their paper sacks of marshmallows, root beer, and name brand toilet paper._

 _"Sure is a nice night tonight." The boy, maybe just 18 or so, suddenly perked up at the sight of Willa as she sloshed the bottles of soda pop onto the counter, along with a catridge of Bud Lite that would probably be unappetizing even if she were human. He cleared his throat obnoxiously, scratchy Adam's apple gulping down the cavity of his throat."You drinkin' this all alone?"_

 _"Actually, um, no. I don't drink soda. Not much." God, it was so hard to keep a straight face sometimes. Especially out in public like this while the ever-dubious and seemingly indifferent employees worked the evening shift like they were premium and everyone else could just suck ass. Willa waited patiently while the man rang up her charges, eyeing the glass half-sized cooler emulating wafts of air continuously at her bare legs. Huh. Funny how natural it seemed now to see cans of New Blood mixed in with Diet Mountain Dew and Coca Cola. Shit, they were so fucking ridiculous. Maybe it was the cans with Sarah Newlin's primpy little southern mug plastered all over them, or the fact that they just looked like energy drinks._

 _"This gonna be all?"_

 _"Oh, wait," Willa bent down and rifled through the cooler, locating a chilled bottle of synthesized AB, setting it on the counter between the bottles of vodka, waiting expectantly. The New Blood tasted pretty preverse cold, but she was going to have to eat sometime before the picnic, ironically._

 _"Oh." The young cashier's face paled as he studied Willa's expectant features, dark eyebrows raised while she waited. "You's a - a vampire?"_

 _"Yes, and one who's in a hurry." she shifted again, wiggling her toes in her red Converse. They always seemed to be cold - it didn't bother most, but she supposed she was still getting used to it, the no body temperature thing. "Please."_

 _"I'm gonna need to see some ID." His Adam's apple rolled helplessly in his throat again, and immediately Willa felt her own pupils dilate, zoning in on the throbbing pulse against the catscratch stubble of the cashier's neck. She could almost feel the waves of undulating bloodflow eddying through his neck, the steady rush of syrup as he toggled back and forth from left foot to right._

 _"Uh, 'scuse me? I need to see your ID. Or, uh - so sale." Fancy that, carding a vampire for buying booze._

 _Willa would have turned red in the face if she could have, and she immediately shook her head, shaking herself out of her daze. "Of course, of course. I'm real sorry. Look, um..." She could almost hear Pam's voice in her head as she riffled around for her wallet, "Oh Jesus, a clumsy vampire, what a treat," until she finally located her driver's lisence._

 _"Have a nice night. Willa." he added, passing her identification back to her with one hand pressed against the counter._

 _"Thank you." She played him one smile, genuinely thankful to get out of this store. She'd always hated Meijer - all kinds of people crowded around to get bouncy balls and Cheezits, all crammed into one southern hootenanny fighting over the last package of freeze-n-drink margarita mix. And the entire place smelled of bike tires._

 _The beer and soda sloshed against the doubled-up plastic bags they were sheathed in as she strode with a purpose to the back of the parking lot, pressing the unlock button on the set of keys to the sports car parked near one of the trees the Meijer staff unsuccessfully planted in one of the wood-chipped flats to make the place look more like a garden._

 _Pam's Miata was ridiculous at best. For one, it was a smothering shade of petal pink, decked out in black leather. The thing was something directly out of a porno, a dominitrix's ride, and it wasn't really funny, because that was exactly what it was. Willa slid into the front seat and started the car, marveling at the stars through the sun roof. When she was little, she was intriqued by constellations, and even now, when they were the only things she saw when she looked up at the sky aside from the occasional moon, they still never ceased to excite her._

 _The open road was her paradise as she eased her foot down on the gas, listening to the steady rumble of the powerful engine beneath her as she sped down the highway, weaving to and fro amongst slow station wagons and beat up Chevys. Driving as a vampire was much more exhilerating than driving as a human. When it took a lot to "kill" you, it was worth having a little fun. With her enhanced vampire vision, she scanned the road nearly miles in advance, maneuvering like a freight train amonst mere ants on the freeway._

 _Willa cracked open the can of New Blood, scrunching up her face at the taste. Hell, it didn't taste bad, her maker had seen to that, but the thought of drinking anything remotely related to that scuz Sarah Newlin, it repulsed her. She forced herself to down half and left the rest to seathe in the cupholder._

 _The closest Meijer was at least half an hour from Shreveport, but she made it back shaving off at least twelve minutes. The parking lot was already packed, sex music bursting from the seams of the place as she approached, swinging the bottles in the Meijer bags in one hand and the seemingly weightless package of beer. Fangtasia had been"revamped", for lack of better word, since the creation of New Blood and the decline of Hep-V. Business was booming, seeing as the place was packed every night full of vampires on their last legs guzzling the overpriced New Blood, and the Fangbangers looking to cure themselves of the virus so they could get back on the prowl. Willa approached the line at the front where Pam stood checking IDs._

 _"Hey, no cutting, that ain't fair!" a girl, most likely a Fangbanger by the looks of her choice of attire, screeched from the middle of the line. With a satisfying shink, Willa's fangs clicked into place in a threatening gesture, grumbling under her breath as she sliced through the growing line._

 _"I'm going to need to see some identification." Pamela leered at her as she slumped against the doorway, ignoring the groans of frustration from the wrap-around line of humans and vampires._

 _"Let me in, Pam." She wasn't much in the mood for her vampire sister's sass or all-around moodiness, that was for sure. She hated this place. She was proud of it, but she hated it. "I'm in a tad of a hurry."_

 _"Haven't we talked about plaid?" Pam rolled her eyes, plucking the ruffled collar of Willa's loose button-up with her manicured nails as if it were the nightgown her grandmother had died in. "You're supposed to be walking sex, not the handyman from Tool Time. Jesus fucking Christ."_

 _"We can talk my fashion faux pas later, but I need to get in, I'm already late." Willa protested, but Pam kept her arm up against the doorframe in her leisurely sexy pose, raising one flaxen eyebrow the same way Eric did it._

 _"I don't see why you're always gallivanting off to that manure-reeking little town to attend church gatherings while you could be here having your way with anyone of your choosing if you just put your eyeliner on a little thicker. Not that it's my business to care." Pam paused, pursing her beestung lips. "By the way - give me my car keys the fuck back before I cut you so deep you'll think your petty lipgloss collection is a new line of crayons, we clear?" Both of her eyebrows raised this time, Willa had no option but to plunk the blonde vampire's Miata keys into her outstretched palm, ducking under her arm, although if Pam hadn't really wanted her to pass - well, she'd probably be against the wall right now._

 _"Next!" she heard over her shoulder as her vampire sister continued to (begrudgingly) check IDs._

 _The entire interior of Fangtasia was made to look like the inside of a coffin, what with the velvety red accent curtains and the hazy red lights draped around the various neon red signs and bar trademarks. Willa, ensnared in the sarcophagus of vampires dressed in black leather, red boas, the works, Fangbangers vying desperately to get laid in ridiculous dog collar chokers and risque attire, wove her way through the crowd towards the back, or rather front, of the bar. Pam was right, she was dressed severely wrong for this place, but she wouldn't be here long._

 _There was a small room off of the main strip of dancers and patrons, just left of the bar, and she slipped blithely over the counter and into the back room, careful to shut and lock the door behind her. Willa didn't want any unruly humans, or vampires, following her back to her room. Eric and Pam preferred their coffins to be downstairs - close to their "little secret", as they often reffered to Miss Newlin chained in the catacombs of their vampire bar. Willa wasn't a squealer, but she sure as hell didn't want to sleep next to the woman who was partially responsible for the corruption of her father._

 _So, wanting to please her and regain her trust, Eric had one of the storage rooms converted into a room for her. It wasn't much, but it was the closest thing to home her maker had given her. Against the wall was her coffin - a plain black thing with royal blue satin - she wanted to order one that was much more to her taste, but never really got around to it. It had been Tara's, and she was too sentimental to get rid of it. Besides, if she got a coffin to suit her, this place would seem much too like a home. And it wasn't, at least not to her._

 _There wasn't a closet, but Eric had hauled in a giant cherry wardrobe, antique no doubt, where she kept her clothing. There was a giant, spotty-with-age mirror on the front, complete with golden trim. No silver, of course._

 _Willa set down the Meijer bags and rifled through her closet, searching for something that would be appropriate for a church picnic. This was ridiculous, she'd been to plenty of them in her lifetime - her father used to drag her to them when she was younger, and he liked to be seen as a holy man. It was another opportunity for her mother to put on airs. But those had been during the day - what the hell was she supposed to wear to a night picnic?_

 _"God." she mumbled, pushing through the "subtle" hints Pam had left in her closet; corsets, leather, magenta. Pam could be a real shit sometimes, mostly because she hated Willa and was constantly at her throat. Literally. It was blatant that the silty blonde didn't enjoy sharing her maker._

 _Sighing in defeat, Willa finally decided on a white dress printed in roses and shrugged out of her shorts and apparently unlawful plaid shirt, letting the fabric tumble to the concrete floor beside her red Converse. As she began to dress, she felt a sudden pang of adoration through the bond she and her maker shared - a nearly warm feeling of affection, strange endearment that made her toes warm up for once. His emotions suddenly changed to amusement as she turned to see him hovering in the doorway._

 _"Aren't you supposed to be on your throne?" Willa started, kneeling to paw through her wardrobe for the right pair of shoes. "What else is the point of this place?"_

 _"I saw you come in." Eric shrugged indifferently, striding to her side and kneeling beside her in one fluid motion, dipping his hand into the cluttered mess. He retrieved a pair of beaded white sandals, raising his eyebrows. "No?"_

 _Willa considered, rolling her eyes as she swiped the shoes from him, putting them on in a blur as she marveled at Eric, who stood towering over the world with his arms crossed, per usual._

 _"Off to discuss psalms and have tea and krumpets with the ladies?" his dusky voice was full of sarcasm, although he needn't have said anything - Willa could feel his mockery through the tug inside of her, their bond. "You're forgetting your Bible, Lady Burrell."_

 _"You know it isn't like that," she sat at her vanity, brushing the ends of her forever-glossy dark hair as he stood behind her, cynically staring at her in the mirror. "And besides, they're having it at night just for me and the other vampires-"_

 _"Oh, the other vampires?" he stated stoically, raising one eyebrow the same way Pam had earlier. "Does this include me? Shouldn't I be looking for a tie to match you?"_

 _"Hmph." Willa pouted, tucking a few bobby pins into her windswept hair. "How do you think that would blow over?"_

 _"Maybe I'm a killer at croquet." Her maker leaned against the wall casually, "Although, when I was a human, we used enemies' heads. Not those senseless colored balls. And we didn't call it croquet, we called it vengence."_

 _"Eric." Willa rolled her eyes but Eric remained stoic._

 _"Have fun, baby vampire." he lilted nearly boredly, turning on his heel to return to his rightful throne. "And behave yourself. But not too much."_

 _"Yes, Master." She sighed again as she retrieved the Meijer merchandise. "Wait! Eric, Pam took her car keys back."_

 _"She's a clever crow." he paused, seeming to be grinding his jaw, probably at the thought of Pam's all-around stubborn nature, or her ridiculous pink car. He tossed her his car keys, which she caught out of the air like a speeding bullet, beaming._

 _"One scratch, and it's your ass,_ liten flicka _." he stated before disappearing back into the bar scene. Willa could never truly tell if he was being serious or not, but she was certain she still sucked at his native tongue._

XXX

Willa Burrell's memory came flooding through to her like a picture show sped up to one hundred, all at once yet slowly, as if Willa savored each and every recollection. So often vampires let their everyday lives slide off their back - even if they involved themselves in slaughter upon slaughter, they disregarded every moment as something that belonged to them and them alone.

Desperately fighting the blackness that had threatened to overtake her moments before, Birdie took a deep breath that expanded her chest outwards against the strain of her ruffled blouse. It had been so long. This wasn't right, it wasn't at all. She could already feel the second life seeping through her palm as her fingers buried deeper into the vampire's obsidian brunette hair, and with an internal roar, she gathered the strength to pull the vampire from the darkness that was gnawing at her.

"Willa." she whispered in one final attempt, pressing a hand to her cheek. The warm, full feeling Willa's memory created forged through their newly created bond pulsed through her body like blood would, a slightly sickening feeling as Birdie willed her to reanimate. She could recall every detail of the woman's memory now - the exact touch of the beaded sandals her feet were clothed in now as she slipped them on, the coursing blood bond through her at all times - she was feeling Willa's maker.

Birdie had never woken up a vampire before - in retrospect, she was glad she'd never had to, because Willa burst from the ground in such an impossibly quick motion that it nearly gave her whiplash just watching it happen. Her fangs were yet to retract and they gleamed in the lantern light as she bared them at the night, letting out an inhuman snarl that radiated somewhere from deep in her heaving chest as she stanced herself in a predatory position.

"Willa!" Birdie hissed under her breath, taking note of the vampire's completely confused and terrified face. Fancy that, a frightened vampire. Her bobbin ponytail had become askew, pieces pulled out from where it had been gathered at her neck, and the white floral dress was canopied in wood chips and smudges of dirt sullying the fabric.

"Birdie?" her Southern voice questioned back, the facets of her eyes coming to rest on Vampire Jessica's lifeless body on the ground, pure shock and horror crossing her features like a ripple. Or a domino effect - the terror on her face quickly became frantic as she eyed her evident friend, motionless upon the ground.

Taking in another sharp breath, Birdie startled when she felt the slender body of a familiar feline slink against her left leg, comforting in the way a child cuddled a security blanket or a raggedy old bear. The cat was strikingly normal - perhaps it would have been a house feline, with its calico design of carrel and white with hints of gray here and there. It let out a soft mewl, encouraging her, although the cat at her heels was just as hesitant as she regarded Willa, kneeling beside the redheaded vamp's body.

The cat, with its glowing aura about it, placed a white paw on Jessica's chest, barely disturbing her at all as Willa looked on, keeping her distance as she most likely tried to sort through this maddening shit. Anyone else's eyes were blind to the cat, purring nervously at her heels as she pressed the already gaping wound to her slack mouth until she drank in her trace, creating a new set of fang indentations beside Willa's.

Birdie's head was spinning as she stumbled aimlessly onto the ground beside Jessica's limp body. Gasping at the intense emptiness to her eyes, Birdie pensively kneeled at her side, wondering if it was too late. Wondering if they had already given her something much worse than a True Death.

 _Jessica was nonexistent in full form in the replica of her own memory. A small cubby void of the sun, or any light at all for that matter. She slept soundly, peacefully, not even dreaming. A vampire's slumber._

She drank from Birdie, giving Birdie her own sustenance as she regained herself, inhaling the sunlight until she collapsed once again in a heap. No. She couldn't just leave the bubbly vampire to shrivel into nothingness - how could she be so cruel? Folding her hands over her chest gently, Birdie stumbled back to her feet, backed by the familiar cat, which wove in and out of her shaky legs. Perhaps only seconds had passed since the ghostly mist had disappeared, but she had already been at the scene for long enough.

Disappearing without a trace was her forte.

"Birdie?" Willa questioned again, coming forward with dampness glistening in her eyes. She spoke the name with unfamiliarity, drawing it out as if she were just learning to talk again after suffering a stroke. The cat became alert as a white rock dove materialized onto the vampire's shoulder, all goodness and brightness radiating from its gentle coos. Willa, of course, was unaware of its existence.

The cat hissed menacingly at the bird, which ruffled its white feathers in response, in confusion as its companion Willa was.

"Willa, I -" Birdie started, only to be interrupted as Jason Stackhouse jogged up from behind the shed, heaving wildly as he stopped to catch his breath.

"Is everyone okay? Mother-fucks chased me halfway 'cross the old Peacewood fields. What the hell were those things?"

"Jessica." was all Willa was able to produce, a gasp of air as she struggled to come to terms with what had just happened. She wouldn't dare utter a word about Birdie - for all Officer Stackhouse knew, Birdie was just as confused as the rest of the towns folk.

The redhead was just coming back to her senses, pushing her fragile body from the ground with one pale hand. Her eyes were damp as well, watering with the realization that she had come ever so close to her Ether. Whatever had been in store for her, and Willa for that matter, had been within her sights, and her crystalline eyes had seen the same blackness that lie beyond her death that Willa's startled topaz ones had.

"Jess? Jess, are you okay?" Hoyt's frantic arms wrapped around the sobbing vampire, encircling her with his tree-trunk comfort. Jessica's cheeks stained crimson - the strange, eerie blood tears pooling at her ducts as she pressed her chin against her husband's shoulder. Although her eyes stayed on Birdie. She knew.

As the church picnic regathered itself and assessed the damage, which was mostly property wise, although a few humans had been injured by hurdling objects and the malevolent creatures who had crashed the party, Birdie covered the gaping gray wound with her free hand, keeping it out of sight as she pushed through the terrified Bon Temps citizens, wondering what the hell had happened. The cat followed closely behind, weaving deftly between the stumbling patrons to keep up with her, always.

"Birdie!" a feminine voice called above the dull murmur of the crowd, but Birdie didn't dare look back. She knew better than to by now. Hell, at least she thought she did. "Birdie, god damn it, wait!"

To fuck with that. She wasn't going to stop. She would get in her car. She would drive. She wouldn't stop until she was far away.

With a gush of air, Willa vamped in front of her, arms crossed over her chest as if she'd been standing there all along. Birdie gasped, startled, but turned to go around her.

"Birdie, we need to talk." The brunette tilted her head to the side, and Birdie got a good look at her scarlet-rimmed eyes.

"Not now. I need to get home."

"I'll take you." Willa insisted, still gritting her teeth and digging her hypothetical heels in. "Home, or wherever you want to go."

"I can't. Goodnight, Willa. Go somewhere where it's safe."

Willa trudged after her, this time at human speed. "Is anywhere safe? What if those things come back?"

"Those things?" Birdie turned, and the calico stopped a few feet behind her, resting in the swaying ember grass. "Listen to me closely, Willa." She stepped over the swaying slender weeds, closer to the taller woman. Yes, she was bigger and stronger in her immortal state. "What happened tonight - no one can know about that."

"I wasn't going to tell." Willa bit onto her lower lip and gnawed like she was never going to let go. "What about Jessica?"

"Keep her on the mum. Go home." She said simply, turning to the ball field again, scanning for her car. Her keeps were still clutched in her right hand and she began trudging towards the vehicle.

Birdie pushed the golden tresses of now tangled blonde out of her face, panting as she stumbled towards the lot of cars, shaking vision failing as she traipsed towards the green Beetle. She half expected it to be on its side for whatever reason, but it was just as she left it, the driver's door open. The feline leapt in before her as she slid into the front and slammed the door, feeling every urge to cry.

The man - the blonde man, Willa's maker. A bar out on Industrial Drive. A beat down groccery store, Birdie had seen it all. One glimpse into Vampire Willa's mind was her virtue.

She turned the keys in the ignition.

It stalled.

"Fuck!" she mused, slamming her hand in the rotary position again, willing the beast to rumble to life. She must get as far away from Bon Temps as possible. And it had to be tonight.

The car continued to stall, creating an unbearable screeching noise. Willing the engine to roar to life once more, Birdie gasped and tossed the keys against the window in a moment of fright as the passenger side door flung open on its hinges, revealing a small figure in a ripped white floral dress, a smear of dried blackness cavorting from one side of her mouth.

"Birdie Blaire?" Willa questioned as the white dove came to rest on her left shoulder, and Birdie let out an exasperated sigh, feeling very much like screaming her anxieties out. "Birdie -"

"Willa Burrell, do you have a car? I fucking - I need a car, and-"

"Follow me." Her answer was nearly immediate, and Birdie slammed the door shut behind her, cursing the Beetle as she followed the vampire through the darkness, regretting every decision she'd made this night.

"Where do we need to go?" Willa shoved the keys into the red Corvette's ignition, engine purring to life seductively. The vampire's obedient look was so - bizarre. She wasn't dominant at all, which surprised her.

Birdie clutched the seat, squeezing her eyes shut. "We? There is no we."

"Please. I want to help." Willa begged, and Birdie shook her head, gritting her teeth.

"Start driving."

 **There was chapter two! I'd like to hear what you guys all think of this - what is with the cat following Birdie around? Is Birdie the only one able to see the cat and the dove? What the hell is Birdie? She she just glimpse Willa's and Jessica's memories?**

 **Thanks for reading, and please drop me a line if it suits you!**


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